


you've got the looks, but I've got the touch

by pearwaldorf



Category: British Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 22:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: No character is ever exactly like you, but if you don’t put yourself into them nobody will buy it. So yes, David likes Michael. Whether any of that extends beyond them being mates is something he hasn’t had an opportunity to consider. Until now, apparently.





	you've got the looks, but I've got the touch

**Author's Note:**

> It should go without saying, but please don't show this to anybody who shouldn't see it. All 1000% fictional self-indulgent nonsense.
> 
> Michael, if you see this and proceed, you deserve everything you get and I'm not sorry.
> 
> Thank you to R for cheerleading. This wouldn't exist without you, boo <3
> 
> Now with [sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724746)!

As fussy as it is to get all the extra makeup and wardrobe done for Nanny, David is glad to have a day out of the contacts. He’s never going to take seeing clearly for granted again, not after this production.

“All right love, you’re good to go. If you need to drink something, use a straw or I will be very cross.” Clarice pats him on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t dare provoke you,” he assures her. In addition to being rude, it’s just impractical to be a shit to people you’ll be seeing day after day for months.

He’s got a little bit before his call time, so he makes his way to crafty to get water and something to eat. He takes an utterly ridiculous selfie and sends it to Collie and Jodie, who would both find it hilarious. (Jodie sends a string of cry-laughing emoji followed by a kissy face. Collie replies “Ditty!!! You look gorg.” Exactly like that and with no emoji, because Collie is not an emoji person.)

“David!” Someone calls from across the tent. Michael’s waving, smiling like the bloody sun.

David walks over. “I didn’t see you on the call sheet. What are you doing here?” Not that he’s unhappy to see Michael, but a day off during shooting is a rare and lovely thing, and in his place he wouldn't be anywhere near the set.

Michael makes a vague gesture. “I have a meeting. Logistical stuff--appallingly boring but necessary.” He takes a sip of coffee, and David has the distinct impression of being looked over. “Glad I got to see you before call though--you look absolutely devastating.”

It’s not the first time somebody’s said it when he’s had occasion to wear a dress, nor is it the first time he’s heard it today. But it feels different, coming from Michael.

Before he can chase that line of inquiry, the PA announces it’s five minutes to call.

“I’d better get on my way too,” Michael finishes his coffee and tosses his cup in the bin. “Hope it goes easy today.” Another smile, and he’s gone.

The rest of the day is taken up with rehearsal and shooting. David expects Michael to pop round at lunch or tea, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s faintly disappointed by this, but it’s not like they won’t be living in each other’s pockets for the rest of the shoot, and during pressers. He puts it out of his mind and goes back to work.

They wrap for the day and he says his goodbyes to the crew and other cast members before going to his trailer. There are some perks to being starring; wardrobe and makeup come to him instead.

He takes off Nanny’s hat and puts it on its stand, followed by her wig and Crowley’s sunglasses. He’s about to start in on the dress when he hears the door open.

“Ah, fuck! Sorry! I can come back later.” It’s Michael.

“Just come in, you twit.” One does not become an actor without losing many hangups about modesty, especially in theatre.

Michael does so, closing the door.

“Since you’re here, you can help me out of this dress.” He could have done it by himself, if he was willing to contort like an acrobat. This makes things much easier.

“All right.” Michael steps behind him, undoes the button at the top of the dress. His fingers brush the back of David’s neck, and he tries not to shiver. He pulls the zip down, but leaves his hand on David’s shoulder.

“I meant it though, earlier. You do look incredible. Always do, but right now?” David looks in the mirror. Michael’s gaze is warm, but there’s something else underneath it. Curiosity definitely, but also invitation: someone, something new, if you want it. Expanding horizons, broadening experiences and all that.

If David was a sensible person he would kick Michael out and finish up by himself. Go back to the hotel, watch some telly, and get to bed with the possibility he could be marginally well-rested for another early call. But Michael is right there, close enough David can feel the heat of his body against his back.

They get along smashing as colleagues. It’s been the job of a lifetime (and what actor gets two of those, really?). Developing their characters together, building on the connection in book and script? He’s never done anything like it, and probably never will again.

No character is ever exactly like you, but if you don’t put yourself into them nobody will buy it. So yes, David likes Michael. Whether any of that extends beyond them being mates is something he hasn’t had an opportunity to consider. Until now, apparently. No reward without risk, right?

He turns around. "Get me out of this, but don’t rumple the dress.”

Michael takes a sharp breath, but covers it up with a smirk. “David Tennant, I am a _professional_. I have the utmost respect for my colleagues in wardrobe and would never besmirch their hard work.” He is true to his word though, and handles the dress with utmost concern, giving it to David to hang up.

David pulls him over to the couch. If this is something they’re doing they might as well be comfortable. He's still in stockings and knickers. Nanny’s dress is forgiving enough that he doesn’t have to deal with shapewear, thankfully, but it’s not long enough that he can get away without stockings. Michael’s staring openly now, just drinking in the sight of David sprawled out like it’s something he wants to memorize.

He leans over David. “I, however, have no such reservations about the talent, if he consents to be ravished.”

David raises an eyebrow. “A little forward, but I’d be willing to participate in a chemistry test.”

Michael settles into his lap, gently taking David’s face in his hands. His first kisses are inquisitive, experimental, trying to figure out what gets reactions. He does this thing with his tongue that makes David gasp, throw an arm over Michael’s shoulder to keep him right there, it’s so good. He deepens the kiss with an impressive single-mindedness David recognizes from the few bits of Michael’s work he’s seen. It’s one thing to watch that focus directed at somebody else’s character, but to be subject to it yourself? It’s potent, heady stuff and he feels almost drunk with it, the taste of Michael’s lips on his tongue and the soft hitch of breath in his ears.

Michael pulls back, and David absolutely does not make a noise protesting this, even though he very much wants to. He’s attractively flushed, smears of dark lipstick on and around his mouth. It’s a good look on him, and David feels a tiny bit of smugness at how his expression has gone from interested to hungry.

“Did I make the cut, then?”

David pulls him back, making a dubious noise. “I don’t know. I think I’ve got to do a bit more research. Get a little deeper into it.”

Michael looks indignant for a moment before he starts laughing. “You are a right bastard,” he says before planting a kiss on David’s forehead. It’s a fond, easy gesture, and there’s something nice about being able to do this with a friend.

"But were you serious though? Getting deeper into it and all. We can stop any time you want." The concern on Michael's face warms him, confirms his resolve.

He looks up at Michael. "But what if I don't want you to stop?"

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Then I won't."

His hands skim over David’s sides, resting at his hips. He brushes little kisses behind David’s ear and down the side of his neck, nips at his collarbone, mouths the hollow of his throat. David tilts his head back so Michael can kiss at his pulse.

“I wish a bit you didn’t have to be made up every day, because I think you’d look lovely with a mark right here.” He bites the spot, mostly gentle but with enough teeth that David shudders regardless.

Michael huffs against him, pleased and smiling. “I suppose I could do it some place nobody has any business looking. Your hip, maybe,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the curve of it. “Perhaps the inner part of your thigh.”

David has an image of Michael on his knees, between his legs, leisurely sucking bruises up and down his thighs, and it is something that appeals, oh so very much.

“Let’s stick a pin in that,” he says, hopefully sounding more composed than he feels.

“Plenty of other things we can do in the meantime,” Michael says.

David tugs against Michael’s belt loops until they’re as flush as they can be clothed. He shifts his hips experimentally, enjoying the smothered curse Michael hisses into his shoulder.

Michael reaches between them, tracing over David’s tented cock with light fingers. It’s just enough sensation to make him realize how much more he needs: a thigh, a hand, a mouth (oh god); he’s not picky.

“How can you call me a bastard after _that_?” His voice has gone all breathy, and under normal circumstances he would be embarrassed. But a beautiful man is on his lap, mischief behind his eyes, and he seems fully happy to take David apart. It doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for second guessing.

Michael presses against him a little harder, but not much. David glares at him with as much venom as he can muster.

“Fucking tease,” he mutters, allowing himself to be baited.

“That’s a very hurtful accusation, David,” Michael says, very seriously.

“I can’t say I’ve seen much to disprove it.”

Michael gets up off his lap, kneels down on the floor. “Will you give me a chance to, then?” His tone is much less arch than David was expecting, given their earlier banter, and it makes something in his chest twinge. Whatever glib remark he was going to say seems inappropriate now, and so he just nods.

Michael tugs David's knickers down past his ankles, and he kicks them away. He should feel exposed like this, vulnerable, but Michael's staring even more intensely than before.

"You’re fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, looking up at David. There's no shortage of people who would tell David the same thing, and it's not like he disbelieves them; but it’s one thing to be told by a stranger you’re never going to see again versus your absolutely stunning mate who’s currently on his knees in front of you, about to put his mouth on your cock.

He knows it’s going to happen, but he still makes a noise when he feels Michael’s slick-hot mouth take him in. David looks down, and Michael actually has the cheek to wink at him before applying himself in earnest.

He’s always thought Michael had a clever tongue and beautiful hands, but to discover the truth of it on this level is something else. He seems to enjoy this as much as kissing, or at least the reactions it gets from David. Michael works him leisurely, not enough to actually get him anywhere, but to keep him rolling on a steady wave of pleasure.

He reaches out and very gently touches the back of Michael’s head. His hair’s not long enough right now to tangle in or pull, so he just curls his fingers, resting them lightly. That definitely seems to do something for Michael, the way he makes a noise in the back of his throat and takes David’s cock even deeper than he thought possible. Fuck. He moves his fingers, petting the back of Michael’s head gently--oh god-- Yeah, he definitely likes that.

David’s not sure how long he can last, not with Michael urging him on like this. He can feel his orgasm building, the sweet-tense sensation of it all, and he gasps, the sound rough to his own ears. He moves his hand down to Michael’s nape, hoping it’s enough to communicate what he needs: _don’t stop, please, please fuck, I’m so close_.

He doesn’t, and there’s part of a breath, perhaps an eternity, where it’s imminent--

And David comes, hard enough he whites out for a few moments, panting and trembling like he’s run for miles.

Michael pulls off him, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. David must look absolutely wrecked, because as soon as Michael sees his face he breaks into the smuggest shit-eating grin. David will let him have this, and not just because he has no higher brain function at the moment.

“Hey,” Michael touches the back of his hand, rubbing his thumb over it, rhythmic and soothing. David catches him by the wrist, tugs him back up so they can kiss. There’s no urgency behind it, even though he can feel how hard Michael is against his stomach. He reaches out, undoes Michael’s trousers and pushes them half-off.

“You don’t have to do this,” Michael says.

“But I’d like to,” David replies, tugging Michael’s boxers down. He swipes at the head of Michael’s cock, slicking up his palm. He gives it an experimental stroke, and relishes the sharp intake of Michael’s breath.

“I’d be a right bastard if I didn’t make sure you got yours,” he says against Michael’s ear. “So show me how you like it.”

Michael puts his hand over David’s, moving it for him until he knows what to do. It’s satisfying to know he can wring such delicious noises of pleasure out of Michael, make him tremble and moan against David’s shoulder when David figures out something else he likes.

His breath is ragged against David’s ear when he mutters, low and urgent, “Fuck, David--I’m--”

“You can come on me if you want,” he replies, and Michael makes this little punched-out noise (David swears he’s going to hear it for the rest of his life when he has a wank) and spills all over David’s hand, his stomach, and chest.

Michael rests his forehead against David’s for a long moment before David curls his other hand against the side of his face, kisses him brief and soft.

“All good?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Michael replies. “Sorry about--”

“If I minded I wouldn’t have said you could. But it would be nice if--” He casts about for something to wipe himself off when Michael takes off his t-shirt. He murmurs his thanks and cleans himself up as best he can, while Michael disentangles himself from his trousers and flops down next to David on the couch.

They sit together in silence for a little bit before Michael turns to him. “Did you have to watch that stupid video about how not to sexually harass your coworkers?”

“Yeah. I think we all did.”

“I wonder if this is the sort of thing they were trying to warn us against.” The smile on Michael’s face warms him, even though he’s practically starkers.

“They did a pretty shit job then, because I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have.”

“Well, good. That’s what I want to hear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Collie is Olivia Colman. Jodie is Jodie Whittaker. Both of them worked with David on Broadchurch and were on his podcast.
> 
> The thing about the sexual harassment video was a joke. Don't sexually harass your coworkers. Don't sexually harass anyone, for fuck's sake.


End file.
